back to the schoolhouse?

Every time I log on to Facebook, someone's status is talking about getting ready for class/going back to school/buying textbooks/etc. It's August 18, and this is the first fall that I haven't started a new school year in SEVENTEEN years.

It's so strange to essentially spend your entire life going to school, and then to suddenly be pulled out of that environment. It's like eating a cookie every day for seventeen years, and then suddenly never eating a cookie again. (OK, kind of a weird example. Maybe I'm just craving a cookie.) I've been out of school and working since January, but for some reason it's really hit me since the new school year has started to kick back into swing for so many people.

The last August I spent not getting ready for school was when I was 4 years old. Every August since good 'ole 1994, I've spent my days buying school supplies, comparing schedules, buying books, listening to the rumors about my future teacher(s), stocking up on my favorite brown bag lunch snacks at Sams, and buying back-to-school clothes (sigh...I miss that part the most.)

Now that I'm out and working, the daily functioning of my life is so different. There are many, many things I love about not being in school anymore, but there are some things I miss too. For example, the other day I was walking back to my office from my lunch break and walked by a Staples store. I caught a whiff of that smell...you know what I'm talking about: a combination of paper, erasers, and other school-ish things. It made me feel nostalgic as I thought back to the days, circa 2001, when my mom, sister, brother, and I would cart ourselves into the Staples/Office Depot frenzy "to get school supplies."

It was a big deal. We each had our special school supply list in hand that they had available at the front of the store in those little slots. (Looking back, I realize that's kind of weird...) There were things that were always on the school supply list: wide-ruled paper, no. 2 pencils, a binder/"trapper keeper" (who thought of that name?), eraser(s), glue stick. Then there were the random things you'd find on the list each year depending on your grade: protractor (who the hell ever used this? It sat in my pencil pouch untouched), special markers, $120 graphing calculator, graph paper (ew), personal pencil sharpener. Since my brother, sister, and I are each equally three years apart in school, we were all distracted by our needs that specific year. When my sister was scoping out college-ruled notebook paper, my brother was choosing his favorite pencil box. And then we'd come home with this:

Sad, now that I probably won't ever go back-to-school shopping. There are endless "supplies" at my office now, which is kind of funny if I had told that to my 8-year-old self. An endless supply of pens and dividers was a foreign and slightly exhilerating concept. I could've stocked my fake school classroom we had in the attic with endless staplers and highlighters.

Oh, and by the way, I found my old protractor hidden away in my closet when I was moving out in December. I threw it away, and guess what? It.felt.awesome.

#FirstWorldProblems

I hope you weren't mourning my bloggersphere death since I haven't updated in, like, three weeks. Don't worry, I'm still here. No lies: I'm just a really lazy blogger. Or I was just waiting for the absolute next BEST thing to write about. Here you have it, folks.

I have this bad habit of responding to people's complaints that are so not-a-big-deal-but-we-still-find-them-as-inconveniences with the phrase "first world problems" (usually mumbled) followed by a sigh. If you're not a Tweeter, this phrase was coined by the wonderful hashtag #FirstWorldProblems (who woulda thought?!) for all things the ridiculous things we complain about in our wonderfully comfortable lives. I know you may think it sounds a bit cynical, but if you start to pay attention to some of the things other people--and most importantly, you yourself--complain about, you realize how ridiculous some of our "issues" are.

I will share an example, which will make me sound completely dense and moronic, but proves my point. At my old job, my friend and I used to complain about how the shortcut on our keyboards for copy and paste (i.e. CTRL + C and CTRL + V) didn't work. I mean, really, this made our lives sooooo difficult. We had to freaking right click, scroll up to the copy button, then go to the next screen and sprain our fingers as we right clicked again and hit the paste button. Just thinking about it makes my hands hurt. So many days we'd sit there and outwardly complain about our strong disdain for our broken keyboard shortcuts.

OK, were you thinking how stupid that sounds? Because it is something so beyond stupid, yet I found myself genuinely complaining about it. I even texted her when I started my new job and said, "My control c and v buttons work!" I'm not joking. (And I know you're judging me.) Needless to say, this is a prime example of a true #FirstWorldProblem(s)--a problem only those living in first world "bliss" would even conceive or experience.

What are some of your #FirstWorldProblem(s) you're guilty of admitting? The majority that people post are actually complete jokes and/or sarcastic, which make them all the more funnier.

Here are some of my most favorites that were recently posted on Twitter:

1. My credit card didn't work at the pump so I had to go inside to pay. #FirstWorldProblems

Going inside might as well be the Boston Marathon when I'm used to putting the nozzle on automatic and wait in my car. 

2. I have so much tupperware, I can never find the right lid when I need it. #FirstWorldProblems

Not even a nifty tupperware organizer from Bed, Bath & Beyond could fix this one!

3. I wish I could just leave work instead of sitting here pretending to be busy. #FirstWorldProblems

Are you guilty?

4. I wrote my name at the end of an e-mail that also has my signature as my name. Renee -Renee #FirstWorldProblems

One of my greatest pet peeves in my email life. It's like me calling you, and then saying my name before we hung up. I KNOW IT WAS YOU. Email tells me who wrote me the email before I even read it or opened the email. Sadly, I have had to sign my name even with an email signature per email etiquette, but I cry a little each time. -Barbara (just in case you forgot whose blog this is)

6. My internet is so fast I never have enough time to cancel downloads I didn't want #FirstWorldProblems

No, I don't want to enroll at Phoneix University online. Leave me alone.

7. I didn't do anything all day, and now I'm tired. #FirstWorldProblems

I have no words for this. Too tired from sitting here on my laptop typing.

8. The tags in my new shirt are scratchy. #FirstWorldProblems

So sad when this happened to me and I accidently cut a hole in the back of my favorite sweater when trying to cut the tag out. 

9. The sun is making it hard to see the screen on my phone. #FirstWorldProblems

When will this beach issue be resolved, hm?

10. I ordered 2 Papa Johns Pizza's, but only received 1 tub of garlic dipping sauce. #FirstWorldProblems

I thought this was funny even though I don't like garlic sauce.

11. My hands are too greasy from eating my XL movie theater popcorn to hold my 128oz soda #FirstWorldProblems

I'm sending out a shoutout to a certain someone on this one, but I won't say who...:)

12. I had a really great shower, but my towel was musty and now I don't feel clean. #FirstWorldProblems

Brings back memories from living in a mold-infested apartment in college.

13. Took too many pictures on my epic vacation and now I have too many potential profile pics. #FirstWorldProblems

Cough, Thomas Adams, cough.

14. The automatic door didn't open by itself, I had to open the door myself like a peasant. #FirstWorldProblems

I love watching people hit the handicapped door opener...when they're not handicapped at all. Just sad. 

15. I accidentally clicked on iTunes and had to wait 2 minutes for it to open before I could close it again. #FirstWorldProblems

Happens to me when I accidently click on my iPhoto and it takes 7 minutes to open. I usually go wash the dishes to kill time as it "loads" and freezes my computer. 

16. My DVR quit recording 2 minutes before the show ended #FirstWorldProblems

When this happened on the Bachelor finale, I wanted to cry for days.

For more tweets, click here.

Thank God the CTRL + C and CTRL + V shortcuts were working on my laptop in order to copy and paste all of those. Would've been just tragic otherwise. ;-) #FirstWorldProblems

On Mischief

It's true. Sophie the diva kitten has struck again.

For those of you who don't know, Sophie is my almost-four-month-old kitten. She's the most adorable kitten I've ever seen--she has beautiful gray and light orange fur that looks like tie dye across her face and body. She is a big mama's girl and literally follows me around everywhere in our tiny little studio apartment. No, really...she actually follows me everywhere. When I sit on the couch, she snuggles up next to me. When I'm washing the dishes, she sits next to the sink and drinks water from the stream (but refuses to ever drink from her black wrought iron water bowl). When I put my contacts in in the morning, she sits on the counter and swats at the case (every...single...morning). Creepiest of all, when I take a shower she sits on the little corner ledge and just stares. I know she's starting at the water because she'll occasionally jump in--only to scurry out once she realizes she's about to be drenched--but it's still kind of uncomfortable.

Beyond also having more energy than Reese Witherspoon in Legally Blonde, she's also the most mischievous animal I have ever owned.

For example, she mysteriously hides random items in our studio apartment--yes, just one big room--and they disappear forever. Forever lost are her feather rod toy and my newest contact case. I've searched the place up and down, but they're nowhere to be found. I strongly believe she slides these items under my front door to the neighbors as exchange for cocaine that she hides in her litter box.

She has also learned to: turn off lamps, unplug my cell phone charger, let herself out of a closet when the door was shut closed, and claw her way up my entire body all the way to my shoulders in .05 seconds (this one is painful).

But I think she has struck her best move yet this evening. It started when I came home yesterday and noticed mysterious large pieces of foam scattered around the apartment. It's very strange when unknown materials surface their way into your home. I searched everything but didn't see anything she could've broken in to. Then, tonight, I heard this loud noise that sounded like she was playing in bubble wrap. I searched to find her, but she was a little ghost and invisible before she'd pop out of nowhere and attack my back as I'm crouched on the floor looking for her. I can just hear her thinking, "I'm smarter than you, you idiot!"

The noise resurfaced again about five minutes later. I heard it coming from my big couch, but looked under the couch and nothing was there. Except...oh, wait...there is something. You know that space under your couch where the springs are? It is covered by that ugly blackish fabric that looks like burlap. Well, when I look down and up, I see movement in the fabric. It's what you'd imagined if you laid under a trampoline and looked up while people were jumping on it.

The little trickster had ripped a small hole in the fabric, and was using the in between space (the length of the entire couch) as her personal secret playground/trampoline.

Exclusive shot of her private jungle...I felt sort of like paparazzi snapping this picture

I'll have to fatten her up so she can't fit in the hole anymore

How the crap does she figure this stuff out? Better question: how do I fix this hole with a fabric she won't just rip open again? I'm trying to think of a way to fix this so she can't pull out any more stuffing/foam from the coach and my place won't look like the freaking craft scrap exchange anymore.

I think she knows I'm blogging about her bad-girl ways because she's sitting all angelically next to my laptop. "What, Mom? You must be referring to some other kitty? Surely not me."

I'm just waiting for her next move. What'll it be? Jumping out the window? Hiding in the refrigerator? Learning to turn on the shower when I'm gone? While I wait, I'll go clean up the vomit I just discovered under my bed, i.e. Sophie's sick form of karma for complaining about her to the bloggersphere. Good thing she's cute.

How To: Ride the MetroBus

One of the core elements of true fauxdulthood is getting a job. And not just landing the job, but keeping it. Which means, uh, you actually have to show up. On time. Every day. Five days a week. 

In my last post I mentioned I don't have a car anymore (moment of silence for El Jeepo...), so I am now a trusty user of the Washington, DC public transportation system, better known as WMATA or simply "metro." There are two ways to get around here: the metro (i.e. the train, or "the subway" for you NYC'ers) and/or the MetroBus (i.e. the...uh...bus). I usually find myself taking the metro because I know all the routes and it's much quicker. Don't worry though, I don't want the MetroBus to feel left out, so I typically ride the bus to and from work.

The bus does have its perks. For one, it's cheaper. $1.25 per ride. Flat rate. No heightened prices during rush hour like the metro. The S2 and S4 bus routes also happen to have a stop right outside of my apartment building and go all the way to Silver Spring where I work. The bus actually drops me off right in front of my office building, which allows for the ultimate in laziness (i.e. win). 

The bus can be kind of crappy too, though. I wish someone had told me the unspoken rules of bus ridership here--it would've really decreased my learning curve. There are particular things you do--and sure as heck don't want to do--to have a pleasant bus riding experience. To explain, here's a handy dandy how-to guide for riding the DC MetroBus.

How to Ride the Bus in DC:

Step 1: Miss your bus. An appropriate MetroBus ride cannot properly begin without walking toward your bus stop of choice, see the bus you want to catch, and then watch it slowly drive away as you run up to it. You will feel like there are imaginary elves sitting in the back of the bus who laugh and point at you from the window as you stand there, watching it ride away, looking defeated.This will happen to you 2 to 3 times a week, so get used to it. Remember to look mad/pissed/annoyed/any city-like expression and curse “damn it” under your breath so everyone around you knows “you just missed your freakin’ bus!” (Note:  No one will care.)

Step 2: Wait for the next bus. Piddle around on your phone, look at the time on your clock every five seconds while thinking how late you’re going to be. Why don't people update their Facebook statuses more often to provide you with idle entertainment? First world problems, I say. Count the number of runners out at 8:15 a.m. Wow, that old man's shorts shouldn't be that short. Ew.

Step 3: Get on the bus. Finally, your bus has arrived! And you only had to wait eight extra minutes—score. Dutifully let the lady with two kids and a stroller step on the bus first. Smack your SmarTrip fare card against the card reader as you get on and survey the scene for available seats. None open in the front, naturally, except aisle seats (but who wants them? No one.) Move to the back elevated level. Seating choices: sit next to the homeless-looking man who smells like your garbage disposal, sit across from a creepy gel-haired 30-something who is already undressing you with his eyes, or retreat to the very back corner seat with the motor vibrating against your back. Motor it is.

Step 4: Plop down and avoid all eye contact with your surrounding riders. Locking eyes with someone on the bus is equivalent to getting on the bus naked. It's just weird, and you don't do it (I hope). Creepy 30-something winks at you and licks his lips. Vomit slightly in your mouth. Give him disgusted look and avoid eye contact with him by being intensely engrossed in your iPod playlist selections.

Side note: If you don't have your iPod on the bus, you might as well be a nobody. Public transportation is like a freakin' Apple commercial. I really do think Apple hires middle schoolers to come and glue ear buds insides the ears of DC residentss at night while they sleep so they will never be able to take them out.

Step 5: Move your purse onto your lap. The bus is starting to get crowded and you don't want to be that person. You know, the person who takes up two stinkin' seats because they let their purse/backpack/duffel bag take up a whole seat next to them. These people are part of the No-Regard-for-Other-People's-Space Club. And you don't wanna be a member. 

Step 6: Wonder why none of the guys give up their seats for the elderly 70-something woman who is having to stand up and hold on to the pole while clenching her walker because all the seats are taken. Give up your seat to her and look around at your fellow riders in secret disgust (especially "that guy," the one who miraculously closes his eyes and pretends to nap when an elderly person or pregnant woman gets on the bus and obviously needs his seat).

Step 7: Listen to people’s conversations. Don't even pretend to be offended by this step, because we all do it, and you know it. Of course, you still want to look completely busy/preoccupied and you DEFINITELY don't make any eye contact. I may be looking at my phone, but I am most definitely enjoying the play-by-play of  your dramatic break-up with your boyfriend this weekend. 

Step 8: Pull the yellow “stop” rope. Yep, your stop is next. The yellow rope is strung around the top of both sides of the bus. Since you're sitting in the aisle seat, you'll have to awkwardly raise your arm across your neighbor’s face to pull the rope. ("Oh, sorry, did my elbow just graze your nostril?") Or better yet, if you’re in the window seat you'll have to do the the obligatory gathering of your belongings to signal to your neighbor to stand up and let you scoot out. I’ve become quite good at this, so I don’t even have to say anything like I used to. It’s amazing how much can be insinuated by the single lift of my purse strap in this city.

Step 9: Exit the bus by squeezing through the crowd of people…so many people…why does everyone stand near the door...and then, yes, you’re free! Fresh air! Pavement! People minding their own business! No more creepers licking their lips! No more sound of the humming motor! Your favorite song comes up on your iPod shuffle list in the midst of all your post-bus-ride glory. 

Step 10: Feel super baller as you walk toward your apartment building. You can hear the bus behind you, starting to come toward you to continue on its merry way. Thank God you're off that guzzling tank, you think to yourself. You're smiling, letting the breeze hit your face and turn up that favorite song of yours. All this happens right before the bus drives by, speeds through a water puddle, and drenches you and your new H&M dress from head to toe. Bus: 1. You: 0.